


Defense Mechanisms

by whichclothes



Series: Jobverse [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/pseuds/whichclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/156098.html">The Job</a>. Spike and Riley settle in at Wolfram and Hart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defense Mechanisms

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[defense mechanisms](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/defense%20mechanisms), [spike/riley](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/riley)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Defense Mechanisms** _

**Title:** Defense Mechanisms   
 **Pairing:** Spike/Riley   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Sequel to [The Job](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/156098.html). Spike and Riley settle in at Wolfram &amp; Hart.    
**AN: **Many thanks to my wonderful beta, [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) . Let me know if you're enjoying this 'verse, because there might be more fics in it. *g*

**Defense Mechanisms**

 

The office was loads smaller than the pouf’s. But there was room enough for a desk and a chair and a leather couch, and there was a necrotinted window with a decent view. He liked to sit with his Docs up on the desk, leaning back in his chair and looking outside, tracking the sun as it journeyed across the sky. He’d been sleeping in his office as well. The couch was more comfortable than the bed in his crap flat and W &amp; H had an endless supply of blood in the fridges. There was no shower, of course, but then he’d lived in plenty of crypts and abandoned buildings that also lacked plumbing, and here he could always steal up to Angel’s penthouse and use his. It had a rainforest shower head—lovely. But the best thing about the office was the computer. It had a big screen, and Spike had already bookmarked his favorite porn sites.

There were some downsides as well, however. One was his receptionist, Miss Goularte. He had no idea what her first name was. Perhaps she didn’t have one. She was of an indeterminate age, somewhere well past the blush of youth but not yet into decrepitude. She was barely five feet tall, with a close-cropped head of gray curls, a bosom like the prow of a great ship, and eyes like Ginsu knives. Spike was a bit afraid of her.

The other problem was the office’s location. It was at the end of a long, twisty hall, and his was the only door in that hall. He’d never noticed that corridor before and he wasn’t certain that Angel hadn’t deliberately had it magicked into existence just for him. His hallway was just to the side of Angel’s office, so it was difficult for Spike—or anyone else—to arrive or leave without Angel observing. Or Miss Goularte, who sat right next to Harmony, just watching, like a semi-animated gargoyle.

Riley’s office was three floors down, in the security division. He’d taken a week or so off for his leg to mend a bit, during part of which time Spike himself was convalescing in the firm’s medical ward. In the two months since, they’d seen one another only occasionally, mostly just a nod in the hallways or as part of a group meeting in the conference room.

So Spike was more than a bit surprised one evening around six-thirty, when a knock sounded against his door and then Riley stuck his head into Spike’s office. “Hey,” Riley said.

Spike paused the video he was watching—_Active Duty_. “Look. It’s Captain America,” Spike said.

Riley smiled widely and came all the way inside the office. He plopped himself down on the couch. “How’s it going, Spike?”

“Well, you know. Been very busy with all my important…shite.”

“I’ve been trying to stop by, but every time I do, Angel or that scary lady head me off. I was wondering if you’d been avoiding me.”

Spike was slightly taken aback. Riley had been trying to pay him a visit? He shut down his computer and stood. “What d'you say we get out of this place? Fancy a few pints?”

Riley slowly raised himself to his feet. “Sounds like a plan.”

Harmony and Miss Goularte had gone for the day and Angel’s office was empty. Feeling foolishly like a teenager sneaking out of his parents’ house at night, Spike made his way down to the garage with Riley at his side, humming something unidentifiable under his breath.

Spike drove. He nicked one of Angel’s cars because that was just so much more fun than taking his own. The Viper was gone, he noticed. His grandsire must be off saving the world again.

He drove them to Harry’s Place, a bar a few miles away. It was actually rather a dive, but Harry was English so there was Bass Ale and Fuller’s on tap and footy on the telly. In his suit and tie and careful haircut, Riley was out of place at Harry’s and he looked a bit uncomfortable. But he followed Spike agreeably enough to a table in the back and they sat down.

Harry came over right away. He was in his late fifties, tall and whip-thin, with an odd cant to one of his eyes. He had a dirty towel flung over one shoulder. He gave them an approximation of a smile. “Cheers, Spike. And what’ll it be, gents?”

“Bud Light,” Riley said. Spike and Harry both burst into laughter.

“Give us a couple shots of Jack, mate, with a Fuller’s chaser.”

Harry nodded and walked back to the bar.

“Nice place,” Riley said, looking around at the dirty floor, the dodgy characters skulking in corners, the broken chair next to him which appeared to be the casualty of a recent brawl.

Spike pulled out his lighter and a packet of fags and lit one up. Harry didn’t much hold with California’s anti-smoking laws, and that was another good reason to come here. Riley made a face when Spike exhaled, blowing a puff of smoke into his face. “Those things’ll kill you, you know,” Riley said.

“How do you fancy working for Evil, Inc.?”

Riley shrugged. “It’s okay. No zombie bombs. And they’re nothing near as creepy as Maggie Walsh.”

The name made Spike shudder. “Nah. These are demons, and demons never can hold a candle to humans when it comes to daft malevolence.”

Harry came by with their drinks. He set them on the table silently and then left. Spike threw the whiskey back in one swallow, while Riley took a more reasonable mouthful of his. Riley said, “I figure it won’t bother my conscience too much to work on security with them for a while. I’m mostly just making sure nothing sneaks into the building anyway.”

“They could use some help with that. Seems to me that a kindergartener could get in now.”

“Working on it.” Riley finished the shot, put the glass down, and ran his finger around the edge. “Why are you here, though? I mean, I suppose even a vamp appreciates a steady paycheck, but I’m guessing you could find some other way to earn it.”

Spike leered slightly. “Could earn it loads of ways.” He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in an overflowing glass ashtray. “Couldn’t leave when I first arrived here—I was tethered like a bloody dog on a leash. Once the leash was gone…I don’t know. Couldn’t think of anywhere else I wanted to go, I reckon.”

Riley tilted his head a little. “I suppose it’d be easy to get jaded after a hundred years or so.”

Spike didn’t answer. He drank more of his beer, until only a few suds were left in the glass. Like magic, Harry appeared with another round. He waited impatiently for Riley to finish his beer before he took away the empty glasses. Spike immediately downed the Jack.

“If you’re trying to outdrink me, you win. I never could beat a vampire,” Riley said.

“Perhaps I’m only trying to get you drunk so I can take advantage of you.” He was only half-joking.

The corner of Riley’s mouth twitched. “Maybe you don’t have to get me drunk to do that.”

Spike’s eyebrows flew up. He lit another cigarette.

They watched the television for a while—Manchester United was playing Arsenal. When Harry brought the third round, Riley turned back to look at Spike again. “So, what’s the deal with you and Angel?”

“’The deal?’”

“Yeah. I mean, you act like you hate each other, but I don’t know…. Seems like classic reaction formation to me.” When Spike raised his eyebrows again, Riley smiled broadly. “Degree in psychology, remember?”

“I met old Sigmund once. Thought about making a meal of him, but he was so coked up I wouldn’t have slept for a week.”

“Now you’re changing the subject. That’s repression. Possibly even denial.”

“Git,” Spike muttered and polished off his third pint.

Riley looked smug. Then he switched to Pepsi—ignoring Harry’s and Spike’s disgusted looks—and he and Spike had a long, wandering discussion of office gossip, such as the tantrum one of Lorne’s clients had thrown in the lobby that afternoon and whether Fred and Wesley were shagging. Spike had just finished telling Riley about the time Angel had been turned into a puppet when he was interrupted by a loud growl.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Spike smirked. They’d both been having such fun with Spike’s imitation of Angel getting mauled by Nina the wolf-girl that neither had noticed Angel enter the bar and approach their table.

“Knew I’d find you here,” Angel said.

“Oi! It’s past quitting time now, innit? ‘M off the clock.”

“There’s a nest of vamps in Long Beach.”

“Good for them,” said Spike “Perhaps they’ve been visiting the Queen Mary.”

Angel clenched his fists. “They need to be dusted.”

“Well, who’s stopping you? You’re the bloody Champion. I’m sure they’ll be no trouble at all for you.”

“It’s your job.”

“Yeah? Because I haven’t exactly seen a write-up of my duties. I’ll check in with HR tomorrow.”

“Spike, either you come willingly or I’ll drag your lazy ass there myself.”

“Yeah? I’ll wager you’d enjoy dragging my arse.” Spike rolled his tongue behind his teeth, and then realized that Riley had been watching the entire interchange with an amused look on his handsome face. Spike sighed. “Look, Jefe. I’m busy tonight. Might be a bit pissed as well. But I’ll fight your vampires for you tomorrow, all right? Surely they can wait a day.”

“I’ll make sure he does, Angel,” Riley said. “I’ll even go with. It’s been a while since I swung a stake.”

Angel made a face as if he’d swallowed lemon juice instead of blood.

“He really has had a lot to drink,” Riley said.

Angel huffed out a huge breath. “Tomorrow,” he said. Then he swirled around and stomped out of the bar.

“You two are totally gaga for each other, aren’t you?”

Spike wrinkled his brow. “Gaga? What do you think we are, a pair of sodding teenage girls? He’s my grandsire. There’s over a century of bad blood between us, and the only reason I haven’t dusted the broody pillock is because he’s such a source of unending entertainment. And him—the kindest thing he’s felt toward me is loathing. He only keeps me about so he has someone to pound on guilt-free.”

Riley just shook his head.

Spike stood, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. “Let’s get out of this bloody place before he changes his mind and comes back.”

“Okay.”

Spike weaved and lurched a bit as he made his way across the floor. “Put it on my tab!” he called to Harry, who looked less than pleased over it but didn’t object. When they got outside, the night air was cool and bracing. Spike looked up and down the street, trying to remember where he’d put his car. “Oi! Someone’s nicked my Benz!”

Riley took his arm and steered him down the sidewalk. “That’s because we took Angel’s Corvette, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah. Stupid, poncy car anyhow.”

Spike tried to get into the driver’s seat, but he forgot that would be on the left, and he somehow found Riley behind the wheel instead. “I can drive,” Spike said. “Was driving before your grandmother was born.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So? Drive drunk all the time.”

“Yeah, and that’s fine for you, because you’d probably survive a collision. But I wouldn’t, and neither would the rest of LA’s human inhabitants. Have a seat, Spike. Pretend I’m your chauffeur.”

Spike grumbled, but he did climb into the passenger seat and collapse inelegantly into it. It was only after they’d been on the road for fifteen minutes or so that he turned to Riley. “Where are we going?”

“My place. I don’t know where you live and I don’t feel like catching a cab. You can crash with me.”

Spike was curious about what sort of place Riley lived in, so he didn’t argue. Riley drove north, finally pulling off the freeway and then twisting through a few quiet residential streets until he stopped in front of a neat, modest house. The whole neighborhood looked the same: small bungalows, each with an immaculate front yard and potted flowers on the front porch. The only variation was provided by the range of bubble-gum colors on the stucco exteriors.

 “Home sweet home,” said Riley.

Spike followed him up the pavement. He leaned against the porch pillar and waited for Riley to unlock the door. When he didn’t follow Riley inside, the man turned and looked at him. “It’s a lot more comfortable inside than out, Spike.”

Spike just raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Riley frowned and then his face cleared. “Oh! Sorry. Not used to vamp company. Please, come on in.”

The inside was neat as a pin. Army training, Spike expected. A couch and a chair, a small television on a stand. One part of the room was meant to be a dining area, and it contained a round table and four chairs. The walls were blank except for a framed photo of a barn with faded red paint. Spike ambled over to peer at it.

“That was my folks’ farm. My family worked it for five generations.”

“You don’t fancy returning to the homestead?”

“It’s gone. Mom and Dad were pretty much going under anyway. They couldn’t keep up with the costs. Did you know a top-of-the-line John Deere runs over a quarter-million bucks? So they sold the place. Retired. They have a condo in Scottsdale now.”

“So you’ve no place to go home to.”

“Just here.” Riley waved his arms around a bit. “It’s not bad, huh? I mean, I’m only renting, but if I stick around at Wolfram &amp; Hart for a while I could buy.”

“’T’s nice.” Spike meant it.

“Thanks. Want the two-cent tour?”

There was a tiny kitchen with what looked like the original cupboards and tile. There was a loo with a clawfoot tub and a shower curtain with palm trees on it. There was a bedroom rigged out as an office, with a desk and computer and three big bookshelves. And there was a second bedroom. The bed in there was neatly made.

“Look, it’s pretty late,” Riley said. “Gotta work in the morning.”

“Right.” Spike turned to head for the couch. He was suddenly very tired as well. But Riley caught his shoulder.

“Hey.” He gestured at the bed. “I can share. The sofa’s too squishy anyway, and not long enough, not even for you.”

Spike thought about being offended, but decided against it. The bloke was inviting him into his bed. “Ta,” he said. He shrugged off his duster, then kicked his boots off. After he pulled his shirt over his head, he looked at Riley carefully, wondering whether he would back out of his offer. But Riley didn’t. So Spike unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans.

Riley had flushed a bit. “I guess vampires don’t wear jammies.”

“Angel does,” Spike said. “Poncy silk ones.” He walked over to the bed and drew back the covers, then climbed in. The sheets smelled of Riley—his shampoo and Old Spice deodorant, a bit of clean sweat. Spike tried not to make it too obvious that he was inhaling the scents deeply. He lay down on one of the pillows and pulled the blankets over himself.

Without saying anything, Riley left the room. Spike was wondering whether he’d decided to sleep on the couch himself, but then came the sound of water running and teeth being brushed, and Riley returned wearing only navy boxers and smelling minty. He really was lovely, and Spike gave him a long, slow look.

Riley blushed again. “I’ve, uh, put on a couple pounds lately. Couldn’t work out properly ‘cause of the leg.” He looked down at the leg where he’d been shot. A scar about the size of a half-dollar marred his left shin, but it looked nicely mended.

Riley got into bed beside Spike, leaving a careful space between them. He reached over and turned out the light, and for a few moments they both lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. Riley’s heart was beating a bit faster than normal. Finally, Spike couldn’t stand it any longer. He rolled toward Riley and put a hand on Riley’s smooth chest. Riley tensed but didn’t move away.

Softly, Spike said, “What you said before, at Harry’s, did you mean it? The taking advantage bit.”

He heard Riley swallow. “I…I don’t know. I’ve never…um…with a guy.”

“We’re grown-ups here. You can say the word.”

“I’ve never had sex with a guy, okay? I mean, not really. Once, back in college, me and my roommate got really drunk and, well…but that wasn’t really sex. We just sort of jacked each other off.”

Spike moved his hand a bit, gently tracing his fingertips up and down between Riley’s pectorals. “But you’re curious.”

“Yeah.” Riley chuckled slightly. “I had dreams about you, you know. A few times. After I found you with Buffy that time. Then I’d wake up all angry and I’d go out and waste some demons—that’s sublimation, by the way—and that helped a little. Or, you know, I’d go have a roll in the hay with Sam. Prove to myself I was still a manly man, a ladies’ man.”

“I fancy the ladies myself,” said Spike, tickling lightly at one nipple. “Nothing better than a strong, beautiful bird.”

“But you like men, too.”

“Nothing better than a strong, beautiful bloke.” He moved his hand to the other nipple. “Variety’s good, innit? Why limit yourself?”

“Hmm,” Riley replied noncommittally, but he didn’t protest when Spike moved his hand farther south, down to Riley’s belly, which was only very slightly soft.

“If you want me to stop, just say so, and I will,” said Spike.

“I…I don’t want you to,” Riley said. Then he moved quickly, sweeping Spike against himself and into a hot, hard kiss.

Spike knew that Riley was a big bloke. But he didn’t fully appreciate how big until Spike lay mostly atop what felt like acres of hard muscle and heavy bones. He didn’t mind. When he shagged a man he liked to be reminded he was with a man, and besides, Riley’s bulk stirred up old and pleasant memories. It had been ages since he’d snogged someone with stubble on his face; the sandpaper grit of it was slightly irritating, but didn’t detract much from an otherwise brilliant kiss. Riley’s hands were big as dinner plates and the calluses on them scraped slightly against Spike’s skin as Riley smoothed his palms against Spike’s back and then lower, just over the curve of Spike’s arse. Riley’s cock was hard, pressing into the hollow of Spike’s hip with the fabric of Riley’s boxers caught between them. Meanwhile, Spike’s hands rested atop Riley’s broad shoulders, his fingertips digging in slightly as if that might prevent the man from changing his mind.

“Wow,” said Riley when they pulled their lips slightly apart. “I guess that’s a big yes in the bisexuality column.”

“Perhaps it’s just me. ‘M hard to resist, you know.”

“Maybe you’ve put me in some kind of vampire thrall.”

“Never did get the knack of that. More’s the pity. ‘Course, I don’t really need it, do I?” He writhed a bit, pressing his lower body against Riley’s in a way that made them both groan.

After that, they were both too busy for banter. Spike managed to divest Riley of his underclothes and they kissed some more as Spike wrapped his hand around both their lengths. Slick would have been good, but Spike didn’t know whether Riley had any and didn’t want to interrupt the flow of things to find out. In any case, precome was lubrication enough and the friction was brilliant.

Spike could hear Riley’s heartbeat, could feel it pounding against his own chest. The pulse at Riley’s neck called to him and Spike moved his mouth down, settling his lips against Riley’s carotid as their hips danced in a fierce tango. “Fancy a bite?” Spike gasped.

“I…no…no.”

Spike was a bit disappointed, but it was hard to be too upset when all of Riley’s heat was soaking into him, when Spike’s nerves jangled and tingled like live wires, when his cock was rubbing so perfectly against Riley’s. “Oh, God,” said Riley. They lost all their rhythm and Riley arched up underneath him and came, and the sounds he made and the feel of his hot spend were exactly enough to push Spike over the edge as well.

Riley held Spike close for another kiss before Spike rolled off. Then Riley stood, giving Spike a view of his magnificent arse, and padded away. Water ran. He came back a moment later with a small towel, which he used to wipe off Spike’s hand and, tenderly, Spike’s groin as well. He went away again, undoubtedly to get rid of the towel, and when he came back he crawled back into bed, again leaving an empty space between them.

“Do you expect that will end the dreams?” Spike asked.

Riley laughed softly. “Not hardly. Now they’re going to graduate from NC-17 to triple X.”

“Why dream when you can have the real, live—well, not quite _live_—thing? Unless….” Spike kept his voice even. “Unless you meant this to be just this once. An experiment.”

 “You’re not an experiment, okay?” His laugh was bitter. “I had enough of that with the Initiative.”

“Well, your research is loads more pleasant than that bitch’s was.”

“This wasn’t research, Spike. I wanted…I don’t know. I didn’t really mean for it to happen.”

“You came looking for me. You waited to sneak by Angel and Miss Goularte. What did you mean to happen?”

Riley sighed, the sound of it loud in the darkness. “I don’t know. I thought…I guess I thought we could be friends. I don’t have a lot of those. It was pretty stupid.”

“Because you can’t be friends with a demon.”

“No! That’s not—that’s not what I mean. Lately, I almost forget you’re a vampire most of the time. You’re just this guy—a guy who didn’t leave me behind when he could have. One of the good guys, I guess.”

Spike snorted. “But you didn’t trust me near your neck.”

“What do you— Oh. Spike, it wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. If you’d wanted to chow down on me, I’m guessing there isn’t much I could do to stop you. And right then I wouldn’t even have tried. Probably just said bon appétit. But I wanted….”

Spike glanced over and saw that Riley was gnawing at his lip. Riley rolled on his side so he was eye-to-eye with Spike. “I know that vamp bites feel really goddamn good. But I wanted to see what you were like without that. I just wanted _you_, okay?”

Spike felt an odd little flutter in his belly. When was the last time anyone had said they wanted him? “Well, all right, then,” he said. “So it’s not a one-night stand?”

Riley closed his eyes tightly for a moment. “You were joking about taking advantage of me. But really, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

That made Spike laugh. “What do you think I am? A blushing virgin?”

“Vampires can’t blush. It’s just…it’s not me you want, Spike.”

Spike grabbed Riley’s hand and moved it to his own crotch, where his still-damp cock twitched with interest. “Could have fooled me, mate.”

“You _did_ fool you. Another defense mechanism. Displacement. Thinking you’re attracted to me when it’s really—”

“Didn’t ask for bloody psychoanalysis, mate.” Spike let go of Riley’s wrist. He was pleased when Riley didn’t take his hand away but instead stroked gently at Spike’s bollocks, as if his fingers didn’t believe a word his mouth was saying.

 “You’re not taking advantage of me, Boy Scout,” Spike said. “I never thought this was True Love. ’M not exactly that little wife with the picket fence you’ve been dreaming of. But we can get our ends away and I can introduce you to the joys of sex with men. Will that suit your conscience?”

After a brief pause, Riley said, “Yeah. Okay.”

They wanked one another then, slowly and leisurely, and they both fell asleep right after.

Spike woke up with his back burning. “Bloody hell!” he yelled and scrambled out of bed, away from the beam of sunlight streaming through the open curtains.

Riley stumbled to his feet and quickly yanked the drapes shut. “Shit. I’m sorry, Spike. Are you okay?”

Spike looked over his own shoulder. “Yeah. Only a bit of smoke.”

“Oh, shit!” Riley said again. “We’re late for work.”

Spike watched with amusement as Riley ran for the bath. As soon as Riley had finished his very quick shower, Spike ducked under the water himself. He had to put on yesterday’s clothing afterwards.

“How are you gonna get to the office?” Riley said, knotting his tie near the front door. “It’s pretty sunny out.”

“Poncy car is necrotinted. Just give me a blanket to get there.”

They drove in slightly uncomfortable silence. Riley parked the car in the garage, right next to Angel’s Viper. They rode the lift together to Riley’s floor, at which point Spike pressed the Stop button and gave the man a thorough snogging. When he was finished, Riley looked slightly dazed and disheveled.

Riley restarted the lift and the doors opened. “See ya tonight,” he said.

Miss Goularte nodded magisterially to him, while making a face that clearly proclaimed her opinion of people who were late to work. But before Spike could duck down the hallway to his office, Angel came stomping out of his own. “You’re late!” he announced.

Spike shrugged. “So dock my pay.”

 He started to push past his grandsire, but Angel shot out an arm and clutched at Spike’s shoulder. “I’ll expect you to come to Long Beach tonight.”

“Fine.” Spike tried to shrug away.

Angel looked as if he was going to let go, but then he inhaled and froze. He stuck his nose closer to Spike and sniffed again. He grabbed the front of Spike’s shirt and dragged him close. “What were you doing last night?”

Spike smirked. “I reckon that you're acting out right now, pouf. I’ll have to check with my expert.”

Angel looked puzzled for a moment and then thrust Spike away. He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed, as if he had a headache. “Just…get out of my sight.”

“Happily.”

Spike stalked down the hall to his office. When he got inside he glanced at his desk—empty, of course, because the only work he was given was killing things—and considered turning on the computer and surfing porn for a while. “No,” he said out loud, since there was nobody to hear. “A bit of a kip instead.” So he kicked off his boots and stretched out on the couch, using his duster as a blanket. The truth was, he wasn’t really all that tired. But there wasn’t much else he was in the mood to do.

He could smell Riley on himself, but also a bit of Angel, from where Angel had handled his shirt. He shut his eyes and shifted a bit. The scent of Riley's shampoo intermingled with a hint of Angel's cologne, the spice of the soldier's deodorant with a whiff of the pouf's hair gel. He slipped into a doze with the image of long, naked legs entwined with his—but whether Riley's or Angel's, he wasn't entirely sure.

 

_\---fin--_

 


End file.
